


Hijinks

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Genre: POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: Snapshots of various outsiders and their interactions with the team.





	Hijinks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphina_snape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/gifts).



            It’s Adam’s last delivery of the day.  All he wants to do is deliver this damn box and go home.  He pulls open the door of the brew pub and steps inside.  This close to dinner time, the place is already packed with people.  He’d love a cold beer and an order of their wings, but that’s going to have to wait.  He lugs in the heaviest box he’s possibly ever delivered and steps up to the counter.

            “I’m looking for an Eliot Spencer.”  He tells the man standing behind the bar.  

            “One second.”  The man twists and yells over his shoulder into the kitchen.  “Eliot!  Your knives are here.”

            A second man appears out of the kitchen and really, he’s not exactly the sort of person Adam wants to willingly hand over weapons to.  He’s got that wild-eyed look of a slightly crazy person, but at least he tips well.  

            Adam decides to ignore what he hears as he leaves.

            “Hardison, put it down.  That’s how you hold a knife if you want to stab them.”

            And Adam definitely is going to need a cold beer.  Or two or three.  

 

\-------

 

            The briefcase just sits there on the table.  Mr. Ford is sitting across the table, looking bored, like handing someone a case full of cash is something he does on a regular basis.

            “Where - where did you get this?”  Mary asks.

            Mr. Ford shrugs.  “We found it.”  He says, and that’s really not all that comforting.  “It’s clean, don’t worry.  Someone deserving should get it.  And that’s you.”

            Mary looks at the cash again.  She feels like she’s in one of those spy movies.  “I can’t take this.”

            “Sure you can.”  Mr. Ford shuts the case and slides it across the table.  “It’s about time this money went towards helping someone.”

            And, well, Mary has a hard time arguing with that.  So she takes the offered briefcase and stands up.  “Thank you, Mr. Ford.”  She says.  

            He tips his head.  “Anytime.”

           

\--------

 

            “The computer’s frozen again.”  Emmett says.  “Better call IT.”

            “On it.”  

            The normal IT guy doesn’t show up.  And the guy who does - well, Emmett thinks he doesn’t really look like your typical computer nerd.  The guy’s got muscles.  Lots of them.  It’s a little intimidating.

            “What’s the problem?”

            “Computer froze.”  Emmett says.  

            “Hmm.”  The guy takes control of the mouse.  “Did you try turning it on and off again?”

            “Obviously.”  Emmett says, annoyed.  Did every IT person have to say that?  Was it like a rule or something?

            “Looks to be a problem with the mainframe.”  The guy says.  “Where’s that at?”

            Emmett directs him down the hall and turns to Callan.  “Does anything seem weird about that guy?”

            “No.”  Callan says.  

            But then the building alarms start sounding and the police show up and everything more or less goes to hell.  In the resulting confusion, Emmett nearly forgets about the problems with the computer.  Nearly.  He sees the guy walking out of the lobby with a few other people and wonders if he should say something.  But the computer’s fixed, and really, Emmett’s not overly fond of his job here.  So he stays quiet.

 

\-------

 

            The blonde woman is just staring at him.  It’s a little unnerving.

            “Can I help you?”  Jacob repeats.  

            The woman thrusts a cloth out at him.  “Smell this.”  She orders.  

            The next thing Jacob knows, he’s waking up on the floor with a wicked headache.  The blonde woman is nowhere to be found

 

\------

 

            Carolyn thinks she must be cursed.  Things just keep going wrong lately.  First the third quarter reports get leaked to the press and cause a huge upset.  Then that reporter who said she was doing the story on top CEOs goes ahead and publishes some article about injustices at Hartman Enterprises about things that very few people should know about.  The stock plummets.  Carolyn’s bonus is in danger.  All she wants is to find whoever the leak is, fire them, and take her annual vacation to Bora Bora in peace.

            Instead, she finds herself sitting in a meeting with two FBI agents.  “We have concerns about national security.”  The woman says.

            “Your company has connections with the Venezuelan government.”  The man adds.  “What, exactly, is your relationship with them?”

            Carolyn’s pleased with how diplomatically she’s able to explain away everything.  The Venezuelan connection is just a simple business arrangement.  The mysterious shipment was batteries, not anything that would be dangerous in the hands of enemies of the state.  The large deposit in her bank account -

            “What deposit?”  Carolyn asks, because she’s always been very careful to cover her tracks.  Her payment comes in a different form.  Art, mostly.  

            The two agents exchange looks.  “This one.”  The woman says, tapping on a sheet of paper.  And there it is in black and white - a four-point-three million dollar deposit that she’s never seen before.

            “That’s - that’s - I don’t know where that came from.  There must have been a mistake.”  Carolyn insists.

            “Right.”  The woman agrees.  “That’s why we obtained a search warrant to search your office.  Naples?”  She turns and calls to another agent outside the room.  “Want to come share what you found?”

            A second woman walks in holding a piece of artwork.  “This is a painting stolen from the a Jewish family during the Holocaust.  Want to explain how it ended up hanging in your office?”

            “We’ve already contacted Interpol.”  The man says.  “They should be here in the next fifteen minutes.”

            Carolyn doesn’t know what to say or do.  Her world is crashing down around her and for what?  A few extra million in stolen artwork and a deal with the wrong government.  “I can give you names.”  She says desperately.

 


End file.
